The Girl With The Arrow Tattoo
by Iland Girl
Summary: "I'm just a kid. A little girl who went through a wormhole and found herself stuck in a weird world where everything is in chaos. I'm just in the wrong place at the wrong time. There's nothing special about me. Pure luck, maybe. Now I understand what Great Gran Khalama meant about being just a girl with an arrow tattoo. I'm that girl now."


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 **THE GIRL WITH THE ARROW TATTOO**

 _by Iland Girl_

An Avatar fan fiction

 _'for those that feel alone.'_

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 **Chapter One**

 _Hold your Breath_

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"Keep up with your breathing Cimba. In….. And out… That's it. Now sink deeper. Feel your mind detach from your body. You're doing wonderful."

Khalama watched her great granddaughter train. Impressed with her ability to control herself. Her willingness to let go. The teenager had worked hard and trained since she was young.

Cimba took another breath, allowing her mind to sink deeper and deeper into nothing. Allowing her soul to rock within her body. She could feel it, like her soul was awakening. She could practically feel the energy rising-

SLAM!

At once Cimba retreated back within herself. Her eyes snapped open and her orbs locked onto the door that had opened. A small boy grinned sheepishly from where he stood in the threshold. He hadn't meant to swing the door so hard, but the wind had caught it and wretched it from his grasp. In his panic he watched as it slammed into the wall, himself standing idly without an idea of what to do. He hadn't meant to interrupt his sister, he knew she had been starting a new training session today. All he wanted was a peek.

"Kona….." Cimba said slowly, her pale eyes just threatening him to make a peep. She shifted, adjusting her position minutely from where she was sat crosslegged in the middle of the room. Khalama sighed from where she sat by Cimba, wondering how they would settle this. She already knew the answer, truthfully.

A beat of silence, then Cimba jumped up to go at the younger boy. Kona squeaked, then laughed and took off. It was a nervous laugh as he ran through Khalama's house with Cimba hot on his heels. He knew the house well enough to evade her, for a little while. Cimba knew the house better than he had though, knew places her hadn't really ventured yet.

Kona booked it down a hall, but the stretch was too long, Cimba rounded the corner and took a deep breath. She blew out dramatically, a gust of air glided along the path and crashed into the boy's back before pushing him into the wall on the other side of him. It wasn't a far fly, but enough to knock the air out of his lungs and fall to the ground.

Cimba slowly walked up to him, a frown on her lips. Kona looked up to his big sister, from the tanned skin to unusual hair colour, even in their family, to the soft eyes that were filled with frustration.

"I almost had it you twerp! I was so close!" Cimba said through her teeth. Kona breathed in after a second and laughed immediately. As much as his sister threatened him, he knew she meant no harm. She was more angry at herself for losing control of her training than anything.

"It's not big deal Sis, that was your first try right? I heard Gran saying you were doing great!" Kona said, trying to save his own skin now. Although Cimba wasn't a violent sister, she could be a scary one if he said the wrong thing.

Cimba took a deep breath, the tension left her shoulders after a moment longer. As much as she was frustrated, she knew it would do no good to get angry at her little brother. She offered him a hand.

Kona took her hand just as Khalama arrived at the end of the hall. She was an old woman, well past her prime. Edging on on hundred and fifteen years old. The elder was showing her years on her weathered face, showing battles that the two youngsters couldn't even fathom.

Khalama's white hair outshone even Cimba's locks. Hair she had inherited from her father no doubt, as Khalama and the rest fo the family had brown locks and pale skin in their youth. Both her grandchildren looked far from like her.

Kona took much after his grandfather, and his mother, with his tanned skin and black hair. He was already growing rapidly and would soon be taller than Cimba despite being several years her junior. He was the spitting image of their mother. Down to the crooked grin he would no doubt use one day to charm many individuals. Kona was a free spirit, right to his core, much like his grandmother and great grandmother had been as a child.

Cimba took more after her father, so much so that people often assumed she and Kona were not related. They had nearly the same skin tone, Cimba being slightly lighter. Not brown like her mother, but not white like her father. A strange in between, Kona being a few shades darker. Cimba presumed it was due to her staying inside constantly, as she didn't like being outside for long periods. It was her hair that made her stand out. While Kona's came out glossy, black, with just a little wave, hers came out in little curls and the most vibrant ginger you could possibly find. The freckles that clouded her cheeks were much the same as her fathers and could faintly be seen across Kona's nose too. They had the same jaw line, soft but solid. The same nose and eyes.

Their eyes were all that truly remained of their great grandmother. The same pale grey that signified their lineage. Their great grandmother could see it in them. See that the line had been properly passed on through them.

"Alright now children, Cimba the lesson is over. You have done well. We will pick up again tomorrow. Kona, please try to refrain from interrupting us, you know how hard it is when something happens so abruptly." Khalama said. Cimba bowed to her Gran, how she was taught when she was a little girl first learning to bend. One palm vertical, a fist pressed into it and bending at her waist. Khalama may have been her great grandmother, but she was her master and trainer right now.

"Thank you, Gran. Same time tomorrow?" Cimba asked while rising to her full height. She called her gran often, as their true grandmother had been absent for most of their lives, all of Kona's. She had past when she was still very young of illness, it had brought grief to Khalama, but the children never even properly met her. Kona pulled himself off the ground and looked at his great grandmother and sibling. Khalama smiled.

"I think it best we begin after school. Unless you would rather your mother know where you both have been sneaking off to." Khalama said with a hint of amusement. Cimba began to throw her coat on and hat, paused, then looked over to Kona.

"Better get your coat, it's freezing outside." Cimba said. Kona scurried off to find his jacket. Cimba watched him go down the great halls of the large house, hearing the creaks and whines of the floorboards.

It must've been lonely in this house. When she was smaller Cimba used to only get to visit her Gran on special occasions. Her great grandfather was there too, often they looked content with life. Happy even, but always content. Like the sky could fall down and Gran and Gramps would endure. She wanted a life like that someday. However, after her great grandfather passed when she was only nine Cimba could see the change.

Khalama was showing her age more in the last seven years than in the sixteen she had known her. She lived alone in her house, refusing to have anyone help her. Khalama was a good woman, who in her youth had helped the children of their small town through tough times. She had helped when no other adult would, and her time then had earned her respect amongst event he shadiest in the town. She was untouchable, considered an idol of the town. Although she rarely left her house anymore, when she did she was always greeted by people of all ages.

In the past year Khalama rarely left her house at all without Cimba's prodding. Cimba would do her chores, along with Kona, and force her to get outside even just to sit in the lawn. The youths were good to her, that much she knew, but Khalama found she had less and less desire to do anything without her love.

Time was wearing her down, time was telling her tale now.

"Gran….. you never told me why," she said while looking back at the old woman. "Why is Mom so against us coming here and training?"

What is she so afraid of?

The question hung limply in the air. Unspoken, but prominent. Khalama simply smiled and stepped forward. At one point in time Cimba and Khalama may have been the same height, but due to old age Khalama had shrunk and didn't stand up quite as straight. So when she reached her great granddaughter and looked up to her, he lifted the child's hood and placed it over her head before resting her hand on Cimba's cheek.

Her great granddaughter, her legacy. Khalama looked at her, looked at the confused expression on her face, and felt proud. Proud that this girl wanted to know, that she wanted to learn what happened. Rather than run from it like her mother. She loved her granddaughter, Khalama truly did, but it was hard to love someone who didn't want to be loved.

Up close Cimba could see the tattoos that had faded with time on her Gran's face. The arrow on her forehead, the ones sliding along her arms and up her hand. Ones that told an unspoken story, ones that Cimba wanted to hear. Ones that were significantly faded in her old age now to the point that they were mere ghosts.

"Tomorrow," Khalama said, snapping Cimba to attention. Khalama settled her hand on her shoulder, a few cracks could be heard from the adjustment. Khalama showed no mind, instead she smiled. "I believe you are ready, Cimba. You are ready to know the truth."

Cimba smiled. Finally, after asking for years she would finally get her answer. Before she could speak Khalama continued in a lower tone.

"But I must ask one thing of you, Cimba. One that you must swear to always keep from this day forward." Khalama said. Cimba, with know knowledge of burden or experience with vows nodded vigorously.

"Of course! Anything Gran." Cimba urged. Khalama smiled at the eagerness.

"You must promise that, no matter what, you will never forget-"

"Found it! Ready Cim?" Kona asked as he darted around the corner. Cimba glanced over at him while Khalama chuckled to herself.

"I think you two best go home. Lest your mother realize you are missing." Khalama said. Cimba turned back to her Gran with urgency in her expression.

"But Gran, what-" She began, but Khalama waved her off.

"Tomorrow, Cimba, I will explain everything tomorrow." She said.

After some more prodding from Kona to get home, Cimba begrudgingly left the house. Khalama watched her great grandchildren waddle down the street until they were out of sight. She smiled, watching the sun's rays shine across the snow covered ground. It was terribly cold outside, but Khalama had long forgotten what the snow felt like.

Not the snow here, not the dirty snow that covered the city streets. The snow that was upturned by ploughs and cars, painted brown from the salts mixed in, but the snow from home. She remembered making igloos with her friends, dancing by the side of a fire and making shadow creatures on the walls. She remembered laughing, and dancing, and holding hands with friends and family. Back when everything was right, and she wasn't just the girl with an arrow tattoo.

After what felt like hours, but was really perhaps five minutes, Khalama pulled away from the window and sat in her armchair. She pulled a blanket onto her as she felt a chill run through to her bones. Up to her chin was she covered in the soft blanket that Cimba had bought for her in fall. Her heater softly whirring by her feet, but she barely felt the warmth of it. Beside her sat a photo of her husband, from back in the day when all of this was new to her, and he stayed by her side despite her hysterics. His dark eyes held more warmth in that photo than she felt right now. Oddly enough the cold did not bother her. She had been getting a chill for the past few days, anon matter how much she cranked the thermostat, she could not seem to warm up.

Her husband was smiling at her, almost pitying her suffering. He would have been one hundred and seventeen next month. A very old man, that held himself together as much as he could. She could see him aging much harsher than she had. He was already decrepit when he was eighty five. She was surprised he held on, but knew it was just because he didn't want to leave her alone.

After their own child had disowned them as her parents, with the secrets that she carried, after the misery and guilt and depression. He remained, if only to help her through it. Their only child, which she had at the age of forty seven. She shared the fear of the truth with her children, shunning her in disbelief, but Khalama knew why. She understood the fear of something they could not explain or do themselves. For none of her children had been benders. She was certain for a long time that she had failed, that the secret art of bending would never be past on.

Then Cimba was born.

Her Cimba, who acted more like her great grandfather than she could ever know. She knew immediately that she had not failed, and she knew that her line would carry on, and maybe one day they would leave this awful place.

"Love," she whispered to her photo, or maybe to the world around her. She wasn't quite sure. "She's ready now. I'm sure of it."

Khalama yawned, feeling very, strangely, tired.

"She has to know, the story that I could not tell you. The story that I should not have told her mother. It's her story too, her legacy, and perhaps she will help him. More than I could, at the very least. He was…. He wasn't supposed to….."

Khalama felt her eyes closing, perhaps it was time for a snooze.

"Cimba….. Don't…. Don't forget….."

She was asleep before her own thoughts had settled.

* * *

 **Hey all!**

 **So this has been circling my brain for a couple of years actually, but i've just never had the guts to publish it. Well it's happening, and after reading a very good 'girl falls from our universe' story, I've come up with my own.**

 **So to clarify, yes, the main character is an Airbender. Hands down my favourite type of bending out there. It's so interesting, and I love the style and culture behind the air nomads. This story is yet another different story telling style i've wanted to try. One where you really are technically in the middle of the story rather the end, but nothing exciting has happened to the main character yet. Yes, she is in 'our world' but instead of ATLAB existing, it is instead a separate world without the cartoon being real. I prefer things like these as they are much less messy and deal with a lot of different variables.**

 **Cimba and Kona, along with a few others, will be integral parts to my story. So if you want to have a fun little ride, by all means. Buckle yourself in and enjoy. And hopefully I'll actually finish this one. I already know this will be branched into 3 books. Likely not super long ones either, but the plot will have some changes. Major events will be the same, but there will be some things completely different.**

 **Please feel free to leave a review. I love them to wee bits. More than anything, I hope you're having a wonderful day and enjoyed some relaxation while reading this!**

 **Cheers!**

 **Iland Girl**


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